


Who Are You?

by Clara_sauce_wald



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Blindness, F/M, Forbidden Love, Love Confessions, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_sauce_wald/pseuds/Clara_sauce_wald
Summary: "I know that voice.""Doctor, it's me, Clara.""Clara, if only I can see your smile then I would know."A one shot if Clara reunited with the Doctor. Anytime after the Episode "Oxygen" season 10, episode 3. SPOILERS!





	Who Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So if you all are on date with the new season of Doctor Who, the Doctor goes blind (DUN DUN DUNNNN) and I basically thought of this idea, and maximized it with emotions and pain. I do not own any writes to Doctor Who or BBCA, and all that jazz. I'm not finished with writing this, since i don't know how i will end it, but yeah. Anyway enjoy! follow my Doctor Who fan account on twitter at @oswald_support and my personal at @clarasaucewalds. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT UP TO DATE, IM SAVING YOU WITH THIS WARNING

Clara was feared to go into her own Tardis. She even feared looking at the door. Every time she paced back and forth in the restaurant, and looking at the very door, she was at conflict with herself if she should see him. _Him_ , probably resting there, with Ashildir tending to his needs, or helping him not bumping into stuff or catching up on their stories. Sitting there with his cosmic grin, telling Ashildir jokes, hiding away his pain. Nardole and Bill filled her in on his “condition” over a glass of lemonade. Still, this concept was very new to her knowledge of him. It’s out of his character-clumsy of him. Perhaps Clara can picture him dying his hair a ridiculous color to fit in with the millennials or maybe even grew a beard, but loss of his eyesight. _Blind in both eyes_. After everything he _could’ve_ lost, it is something she would never imagine him losing.

Clara hasn’t seen him in-blimey-years. Give or take 5. She’s been doing the same thing he would do, traveling out of habits. Tending to the Universe’s needs, and of course, keeping a close (but distant) eye on him, some days. On occasions, she would see the big blue box stand as it always is in small pockets of London, and on different planets just out of luck. All those times, she could’ve went inside and tell him she’s here, but all those times also meant costing the life of the universe. And at this moment, it can still cost her that price too.

“He’s awake.” Ashildir creeped inside, peeking out and looking at the anticipating Bill, Nardole, and the very nervous Clara. Clara was lost in her own thoughts, that she didn’t even hear Ashildir open the door, but everything she was thinking cleared her mind. Both Bill and Clara stood up, and looked at each other.

“I think it’s best if you go see him first.” Bill motioned Clara first, too sharing the queasiness in the stomach. Clara wasn’t sure if she should take that offer, being that Bill was his current companion, or that he would want her to see him (well not see-visit him- say hello). Clara nodded.

“Okay.” she muttered, taking in a deep breath. She let her feet drift to the backdoor, but her brain flew by.

And he was there. _The Doctor_. _Her Doctor_. He sat up right, with fine posture and alert ears, sensing an entrance. But not knowing it was hers. Clara opened her mouth, about to say something, but found no air to breathe. She found nothing to say to him, but just to look at him. At his back, his red velvet coat that she loved so much, shaped his perfect broad shoulders that balanced his body proportions. His curly, grey hair. _How she missed his curly head_. He let himself go, little a bit. His bangs pushed behind him like a fan pushed his hair, and his curls which ended by his ears. His hands were perfectly placed on his legs, no sudden movements, or jittery flicks. He just sat there, like a kid waiting for a treat, or him waiting for some exciting crisps. Clara sniffled softly, causing the Doctor’s head to tilt slightly behind him, no more than an inch. She smiled. _How observant he still is._ And Clara is glad he is still the Doctor she ordered him to be. She softly walked around him, testing his hearing (if he really is blind), and finally facing him. She didn’t expect his eyes to be open, and not clear like she imagined it would be. They were the same piercing green, timelord eyes. The Scottish eyebrows. The eyes that had its own universe in the iris. The eyes that adored her smile, and promised to remember it. The eyes that balanced her browns.

She waved her arms, in front of him. Far, and then close.

“I can sense movement. I’m not that stupid.” The Doctor spoken to the room, and spooked Clara. She held her breath in, and bit her lower lip from blurting anything.

“Who are you? Is it Bill? Nardole? Come on this is getting really boring, I don’t want to keep playing Marco Polo.” He sighed exhaustively.

“You, took quite a fight there.” Clara finally said something, not revealing her identity. His eyebrows came to a flux, realizing this is someone new.

“Not Bill.” He lowly muttered to himself.

“Caught you and your lot in the middle of the Zord war zone. Dangerous, ain’t it Doctor? Well for you it was probably just a stroll through the park. Good thing me and Ashildir were there at the right moment and time.”

“Yes, yes but who are you?” He gave no mind of her comment, and stood up in a fast pace, causing Clara to back behind. He continued to look forward, past the top of her head.

“Bill and Nardole are fine, they’re here, enjoying a nice cup of lemonade.”

“I know they’re here, because I’m here. But who are you?”

“I can’t say.” Clara held back her tears, trying to keep the conversation monotone. The Doctor tilted his head down, finally looking at her. It baffled her, that he was looking directly at her, but with no clue, that it was her. With every look, it was a new feeling. Of joy, of curiosity, of sadness, of angst, of love, of wanting to be with him. Of wanting him to see her.

The Doctor grinned his jaw, puzzled of Clara’s identity. “Plus, you won’t care, because the next stop you and your friends are going back to is Uni.” Clara ended the conversation in a fast matter, and turning to the console, knowing that she is tangoing with a firecracker. She punched the coordinates in, and flipped a few switches.

_“I know that voice.”_ The Doctor said in a raspy tone. Clara looked up at him, who was still standing up. Her hand was atoms away from the lever, frozen in fear and astonishment.

“Drop me off where ever you like, but I care because _I know_ that voice. I know it because I hear it in my dreams. And I see who you are, talking to me with that soothing, _teacher_ , voice. I know it because I hear it in the dead of night, in the most emptiest lecture hall, alone as you as my conscience, I hear it in my Tardis as an echo back to me, keeping me company so I won’t go mad. I hear it in the whistles of the Tardis engines, between the books, in the empty spaces of the Tardis ceilings, and in my footsteps, your voice is there.” The Doctor reassembled her judgement, and looked into the blackness of nothing. But in that nothing, was a picture of his sight in front of him, so close to becoming real.

Clara felt her stomach being caught, and dragged down to the bottoms of the Earth. Her eyes welded up, trying hard to keep herself anonymous.

“So don’t _you_  tell me what I care and don’t care, because I know your voice. Again, _tell me who you are_.”

She broke.

“I’m Clara.”


End file.
